


Adult Education

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, In which Gold tries for his GED, We Merry Band of Brothers, and sister - Freeform, fluffy au, unlikely friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9522263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: magnoliatattoo prompted: Gold inherited the pawnshop from a mentor, but never received a secondary education outside of his apprenticeship. In other words, Gold is a high school dropout and Belle is the volunteer GED tutor in Storybrooke.





	

**Free HiSET tutoring**

**8 PM, Storybrooke Library**

**Tuesdays and Thursdays**

**See Belle for details**

**It’s never too late to earn your diploma!**

 

Gold hesitated outside the library doors and looked back at the creased flyer in his hand. He’d taken it from the plastic case months ago when it was first set out on the circulation desk — just out of curiosity. He had no real intention of actually going, but he kept it anyway, taking it out every evening as he emptied his pockets as he got ready for bed, glancing over the words before tossing it onto his dresser along with his wallet and change then stuffing it back into his suit jacket pocket every morning with the rest of it before heading out for the day. It had been folded and unfolded repeatedly until the creases were white and fuzzy from use and torn in some places and the edges were curled beyond help. He considered asking the librarian about it a few times, but never worked up the courage. Miss French was sure to be discreet — he certainly hadn’t heard any gossip about anyone who had gone to these tutoring sessions and the small-minded citizens of Storybrooke liked to talk about _everything_. He just hated to appear weak, an imbecile, a failure, a dropout. Whatever pejorative people assigned to someone who never graduated, he felt it keenly and there was a small part of him that was too cowardly admit this one failure of his in front of the kind librarian.

Gold hadn’t seriously thought of this missing piece of his education in decades until the flyers showed up at the circulation desk. He certainly didn’t need it now when he was pushing fifty and had two successful businesses despite the lack of diploma. He had done well enough without it. It wasn’t like he was _illiterate._

No one even knew this flaw, or, if they did, it didn’t matter. Not to him. He could turn around and go straight home to a late dinner and an early night, or back to his shop to finish up some work he’d been leaving, high school diploma be damned.

He peered into the library and counted heads, unable to distinguish who was who from this vantage point. There were four indistinct shapes, one of whom was Miss French, who presumably had a college education… possibly even two — he’d checked the education requirements needed to be a librarian when she’d swooped into town three years earlier. Just out of curiosity, mind. He’d never thought about what a person needed to be a librarian before. He thought you just needed to know how to alphabetize and a general fondness for reading, but, judging by the scant informational pages he’d found, there was a bit more to it than that.

He folded the flyer up again and tapped the edge against his palm, the point of the fold long since worn away into fuzz after weeks of handling. A quick glance up the street showed him that there was no one approaching, no one to see him walk in. No one to put two and two together…

God he was being ridiculous. Either go in or leave. Pick one.

It would be better if he knew exactly who was inside. He didn’t think he’d be able to face say… the mayor if she was in there. Though, if Mayor Mills was studying for her HiSET then they would be on equal footing wouldn’t they? She would have no reason to belittle him for it since she would be in the same boat. Hypothetically speaking. He doubted that she would be mayor without that pesky little piece of paper along with several other pieces of paper that were more expensive than they were useful, but, he’d also long observed that the politics of this small town were sketchy at best, outright corrupt at worst. It was an observation he used to his advantage more than once.

He shook his head a little, annoyed with himself and his hedging. Either go in or leave, that was the deal he’d made with himself that morning. There was nothing to be ashamed of. No one in there would judge him, least of all Miss French who had started the program in the first place. Giving up two evenings a week meant she cared about people. People in general, not specifically him or specifically anyone really, but she cared. He thought that if he was going to expose himself, educationally speaking, that she was a safe person to have in his corner.

A glance at his watch showed him that he was fifteen minutes late. If he was going to go in, he needed to do it now. If not, well there was always Thursday.

Stay or go.

Stay or...

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself against whatever he might find inside, he grabbed the door handle and pulled, striding purposefully towards the reading tables where they had set up their study session, every step an exercise in agony both mentally and physically as his ruined ankle protested the large steps he used to eat up the space. The cane he used was more for show than anything, though it had come in handy a time or two when someone mistook his age and size for weakness, but after a long day standing in his shop, it was nice to have.

“Mr. Gold!” she said, rushing towards him with a sharp clack-clack-clacking of her heels on the dingy linoleum, her lips quirking up just _so_ at the corners. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed right now. Can you come back tomorrow?”

He silently handed her the flyer, watching as she carefully unfolded it. She took it from his wordlessly and her eyes glanced over it as if she didn’t recognize it, which was preposterous since she’d written it, then she looked up at him, her eyes searching his questioningly.

“You’re here for the tutoring?” she asked, her eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

He glanced over at the others, all of them hunched over their workbooks and not paying him any attention. Swallowing the lump that had lodged in his throat, he just nodded his head. Once. Twice. And waited.

Her lips pursed together in a silent and very surprised, ‘Oh,’ and he felt small just then, smaller than he had in decades and hated himself for walking in when he could have just ignored the whole thing.

She barely even blinked at him, just smiled kindly and led him to the study tables where he could now see heads popping up to stare at him like gophers on the lookout for coyotes. He recognized every one of them. Leroy, the semi-drunken dock worker who came to him to finance his boat and resented him fiercely for having the audacity to want to be repaid. Will, a nice enough kid who worked at the mill, but always left Gold feeling wrong-footed for some reason. And Ashley Boyd, this year’s pregnant teen who, once she saw him, immediately ducked her head and went back to studying. Gold didn’t know how far along she was, but she looked very close to popping. He idly wondered if Miss French had read up on childbirth just in case. It wouldn’t surprise him if she did. She looked the type to want to know everything.

“I gave you your money on Monday, Gold,” Leroy groused at him, shooting him a look of pure hatred before sullenly ducking his head again.

Gold stiffened ready to fire back with a cutting remark, but Miss French put a hand on his arm, effectively stilling him even though his muscles were taught with unresolved tension. He glanced down at her hand, startled by the casual touch, then at Miss French’s face in bewilderment.

She had a small, displeased creased between her brows, but the look was directed at Leroy, not at him. She quietly led him to an empty table on the other side of the study group and had him take a seat. After a second’s hesitation she pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, too, folding her hands in front of her and waited.

“I, uh… I didn’t finish,” was all that he said because it was obvious to him why he would even come in on this night and expose himself in this manner.

She didn’t seem fazed by his admission, not like he expected, but she did take a moment to reply. “Well, Mr. Gold, I’d be happy to help you obtain your diploma,” she told him with a curiously light smile. “I’ll, ah… get a test packet and we’ll see what you need to work on.” She waited for him to nod before she set off to her office, returning with a thin booklet in her hand and a pencil.

“So, this shouldn’t take very long,” she told him, laying out the materials in front of him. “It’s just an assessment. I suspect you won’t have any trouble with the maths,” she told him with a wry smile. “And your English usage is fine, but this will give us a clearer understanding of where you are, um, academically. The science portion might give you some trouble since it’s been…” She glanced up at him, her eyes flitting from his eyes to his graying hair and back  before she looked away with a slight flush to her cheeks. “Er… A while since you were in school last and things are a bit different now.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “You can take the test now of course, but it’s okay to take time to study a bit first. If you, um, if you want.” She tilted her head to the side, watching him, her blue eyes seeming to bore right through him.

He swallowed and looked away, down at the booklet in front of him. “No, I think I’d rather just get it over with.” He felt stupid already and began to wish like hell that he didn’t come.

“Very well. I’ll let you get started,” she said, sliding out of her seat with ease.

Gold watched in fascination as she patted down the creases in her skirt, smoothing the fabric over her hips with careless movements of her hands before he shook himself out of his trance. He swallowed thickly and pulled his attention to the booklet in front of him, ignoring her soft ‘good luck’ as she went to answer a question from Ashley.

His heart thudded and he suddenly remembered that he hated taking tests. Hated that choked up, suffocating feeling he’d get when faced with endless questions and a bunch of trick answers that all looked kind of the same. All his studying would fly right out of his head the moment he was faced with a sheet of questions and a stern teacher looking over his shoulder, breathing down his neck and practically exuding their lack of faith in him. They always thought he’d cheat and always watched him like a hawk, which made things all the worse for his performance.

It was frustrating because he _knew_ he knew the answers, but only if wasn’t facing a test. He would study and study and study until he was near exhaustion in the hopes that somehow the knowledge would just _stick_ this time, but the answers were locked away in a safe somewhere in his head and of course, he forgot the damn combination the moment the teacher told them to start. Pop quizzes, final exams, oral reports, assessments all made his stomach churn and his palms sweat. It was no wonder he dropped out when he did. He didn’t know what he was doing walking in here like this. He was too old to even need a diploma, what was he thinking?

He felt the sweat begin to bead up at his temples and the words in front of him blurred as the old, familiar panic welled up. He sent an apprehensive glance towards the others — every single one of them was wrapped up in their own work, but how did he know they weren’t watching him flounder when he wasn’t looking? They might be waiting for it to happen, hoping for him to fail in front of them. He couldn’t show them any weakness, the very idea went against everything he’d built himself up to be in this small town. He steeled his nerves and picked up the nub of a pencil Miss French had provided, hunched his shoulders and began to write.

He would show all of them. Somehow.


End file.
